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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25942240">The Curve of Your Letters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwarned/pseuds/starwarned'>starwarned</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, Gay Sex, Getting Together, I love them!, Kissing, M/M, Pining Simon Snow, Teasing, Texting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:33:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,997</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25942240</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwarned/pseuds/starwarned</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>god i wanna fuck him so bad </i>
</p><p>
  <i>like so bad </i>
</p><p>
  <i>he’s so hot<i></i></i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch &amp; Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>309</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>sorry this includes so many cliches oopsies</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>god i wanna fuck him so bad </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>like so bad </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>he’s so hot </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Tell him that, not me, Simon. </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>it’s his bloody hair and his posh fucking clothes </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>I know what it is. You don’t talk to me about anything else. </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>sorry pen </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>It’s okay, you knob. Ask him out. </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>no way. he’s intimidating. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Ask him out so I can have some goddamn peace. I’m trying to study. </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>fine i’ll leave u be. i’m not asking him out, tho </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>You’re a moron. Love you. </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>love u too </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon clicks off his phone and sets it down on the desk next to his open notebook. He picks up his pencil and uses it to doodle in the margins of his paper. Simon’s never been great at free-writing (he gets distracted far too easily), but today he had a lot to say. He’d finished before anyone else, including Baz, who’s usually the first finished. The wanker. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz is taking his time today, letting his thin hand scrawl across the paper slowly, like he has nothing to prove and all the time in the world to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not prove it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon knows he’s a lucky bastard for randomly sitting next to Baz at the beginning of the term and he likes to believe he takes advantage of his situation enough. He indulges in watching Baz out of the corner of his eye - flipping his hair out of his face, biting at his pale pink lips, twiddling his pen between his fingers, and overall acting like the bloody Queen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Baz whispers to Simon, causing him to flinch a little bit and drop his pencil. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon looks over at Baz. “What?” he asks as quietly as he can manage. Everyone around them is still working. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I get your number?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>God, this is all Simon has ever wanted. He feels like his brain is shooting out of his skull. “What?” he repeats, dumbly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz rolls his eyes (a sight Simon is quite used to). “We have that Shakespeare assignment due next week. I figured we’d work together.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s very like Baz to not even ask Simon to work with him and just go right into planning their partnership. Simon’s disappointed that Baz doesn’t want to get his number in order to, you know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>him, but he’ll take anything at this point. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.” Simon can’t make his brain function enough to say anything more eloquent. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz pulls his phone from his back pocket (Simon notices his floral phone case which is so on brand, he can’t stand it) and unlocks it before slipping it into Simon’s fingers. Simon types in his number and saves his contact. He has to refrain from adding eggplant emojis after his name. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon hands Baz’s phone back and watches as Baz’s fingers deftly move across the screen and Simon’s phone is buzzing seconds later. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Baz here. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the lamest text Simon has ever received, but he grins up at Baz like he’s received a confession of love. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>obviously it’s u, wanker. i gave u my number 20 secs ago</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>You text like an imbecile. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>no, i txt fast. i have better things 2 do with my time than message u essays. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon watches as Baz starts to text back, but then deletes what he’s typed. He begins the text again, but the professor dismisses the class so he shoves his phone into his back pocket before packing up his things, giving Simon a tight smile, and rushing out of the lecture hall. Simon hurriedly puts all his things in his bag and leaves after Baz. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon doesn’t have another class to get to, but he’s not necessarily excited to go home and be bombarded with information from Penny. She’s been spending an excessive amount of time with Shep, a student from America, and their consistent arguments over </span>
  <em>
    <span>what’s what</span>
  </em>
  <span> have bled into Simon and Penelope’s personal conversations. He can’t really complain because all he talks about (all he </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinks </span>
  </em>
  <span>about) is Baz bloody Pitch. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Avoiding any large crowds, Simon slinks down to the lower quad where he takes a seat on the grass there, tugging his Greek textbook out of his bag. He lays it open on his lap, not caring what page it turns to because he gets a text from Baz. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>When are you free to work on the project? </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon resists the desire to tell him </span>
  <em>
    <span>any day, any time</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’d drop anything to spend time with Baz, especially if it’s outside of class. Maybe he’ll have more of an excuse to just stare at him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>i’m free all day tomorrow! </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He regrets sending the exclamation point, but he can’t take it back. Simon sits and waits for Baz’s response anxiously, fingers tapping against the edge of his textbook. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Great. Tomorrow at 4? Come to my place. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon aches just thinking about going to Baz’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>place</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He tries not to seem too eager, so he texts Penelope instead.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>i want him to fuck me. he invited me over</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>I swear to Stevie Nicks that I’ll block your number. Have sex with him and stop bothering me. </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>i need ur support, pen! he invited me over to work on a project this weekend and i need to be reminded that i cant just tell him i want to have sex with him </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Sure you can. Baz seems like a straightforward kind of bloke. Did he invite you over to do something legitimate or ambiguously? </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>to work on a shakespeare project. defs not ambiguous. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Don’t try and have sex with him then. Work on your project. You’ve got the rest of the semester to seduce him. </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>ur right. as always. i’ll keep my hands to myself. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon sighs and texts Baz a confirmation for four, then promptly falls asleep on the grass, textbook still open and flipping pages in the wind. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon checks the clock again. It’s only 7:45, so way too early to text Baz, but Simon’s been awake for two hours, just aching to text him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon’s never been an avid texter. He’s even less of a talk-on-the-phone kind of bloke, though, so he’s usually stuck texting. It’s not like he even texts anyone besides Penelope and occasionally Shep (which is usually just Shep asking Simon if he wants takeout or if he can borrow his shaving cream when he stays over really late. Penny loves to deny that she’s interested in him, but Shep is over way too often for that to not be the case). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon likes to text Baz, though. They’d texted until Simon fell asleep (which, granted, was very early and they really only texted for maybe an hour), and he’d woken up from a leftover text from Baz. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>I hope you’re getting some sleep. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knows it’s not as if Baz has texted his true love for him, but Simon likes that Baz cares enough to have sent it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So he’s been sitting around, waiting for the appropriate time to text Baz back (and not look completely desperate). (He </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> completely desperate, but he doesn’t want Baz to know that). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After getting up, showering, putting on </span>
  <em>
    <span>jeans </span>
  </em>
  <span>instead of his typical trackie bottoms, eating breakfast, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>making himself coffee, Simon decides he’s waited long enough and finally texts Baz. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>4 still ok? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz answers quickly (which is good because Simon was prepared to stare at his phone until he got a response, even if that was hours away). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Absolutely. Make sure you read Henry IV before coming over. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon rolls his eyes. He hates the history plays, but if it means that they get good marks on their project and Baz wants to work with him more often, perhaps it’s worth it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon gets his laptop out and splits half the screen so he can watch Doctor Who while he starts to read Henry IV. He also opens up Instagram on his computer, completely ignoring the play he should be reading, and diverts all his attention to the photo that Baz just posted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, he’s so posh. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’s wearing a floral suit coat and leaning too casually against a pillar that Simon recognizes from outside one of the science buildings on campus. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon distractedly opens up his phone to send a text to Penny. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>christ i wanna fuck baz so bad </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Oh? </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon drops his phone on his bed like if he stops touching it, the text to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Baz </span>
  </em>
  <span>will unsend. Doctor Who continues to play and Simon can’t even fathom focusing on it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Baz just said </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At least it’s better than him saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>Never speak to me again, you poisonous bunch-backed toad. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon picks up his phone and shakily texts back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>shit. sorry. that was clearly not meant for u</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Baz hasn’t answered in the first three minutes after he’d sent the text, Simon stands up and leaves his phone on the bed, pausing Doctor Who before heading into the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Penelope’s there, knocking shit about as she tries to find the raspberry tea bags. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, Pen,” Simon says, anxiously starting to brew himself a second cup of coffee of the day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Penny grunts softly in response. She makes herself a cup of tea while Simon stares at her intently, waiting for her to notice him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What, Si?” Penny finally asks, leaving her mug on the counter as she turns to face him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon blushes. “I texted Baz.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Congratulations.” Penny picks up her drink and starts to leave. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Simon says, trying to stop her from leaving. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>texted </span>
  </em>
  <span>Baz. I was trying to tell you that I wanted to fuck him and I accidentally texted it to him.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Penny’s mouth slowly smiles and she laughs, stifling it with her hand for Simon’s sake. “Holy shit.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon groans and leans his head against a cabinet. “I know.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think this is karma for never texting me about anything else.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Penny</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Simon whines. “Be serious. What am I going to do?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did he respond?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He said ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>’.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I texted back and apologized and said that it obviously wasn’t meant for him, but he hasn’t responded. How am I going to face him?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Penny settles a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” she promises. “I told you to ask him out - maybe this works just as well.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon groans dramatically and smacks his head against the cabinet. “I’ve cocked it all up.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Penny concedes. “Go text him back. Ignoring him isn’t going to fix anything. Don’t you still have a project to work on?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon stands outside of Baz’s apartment building, fingers tapping anxiously against his thigh. Baz lives on the fourth floor and Simon doesn’t want to climb the stairs nor does he want to see Baz after what he texted him this morning. Baz didn’t text him the rest of the day, except when Simon initiated it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>r we still good to work on the project? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Yes. </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s all he’d said and Simon had been too worried to try and strike up any other form of conversation. He really considered not showing up at all, but he needs to do well on the assignment in order to pass the class (and Baz is the top student). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing, Simon finally kicks himself into gear, hikes his bag up on his shoulder, and heads up the stairs. By the time he’s reached the fourth floor, he’s out of breath, but calms himself down by standing outside of Baz’s door until he’s ready. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knocks. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz takes his time answering. When he does open the door, Simon can’t help but stare. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>barefoot</span>
  </em>
  <span>, wearing jeans and a short-sleeved floral button-down with the sleeves cuffed. He looks fucking good and Simon salivates at the sight of his arms this exposed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello,” Baz says, opening the door wide enough and taking a step back so Simon has enough space to enter. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” Simon responds as he brushes past Baz into the apartment. “I didn’t think this would be your style,” he can’t stop himself from commenting. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The apartment is full of posters and memorabilia for several rock and punk bands that Simon sincerely doubts Baz listens to. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Simon turns back to look at him, Baz looks away, eyes training on the ground. “I live with my aunt,” he explains. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon smiles and continues to look around at the room, honestly enjoying the decor. He doesn’t get a lot of time to appreciate it before Baz is motioning him to follow him down the hall. Simon follows behind Baz, trying not to stare at his arse in those goddamn jeans (he’s not trying hard enough). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz leads Simon into his bedroom (something Simon’s been hoping for for months, even if this is the wrong context), and shuts the door behind him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You ready?” Baz asks. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon’s a little busy, staring at Baz’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>clean room. Of course he has the most pristine bedroom Simon has ever laid eyes on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Simon says after a second. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz sits down at his desk and motions for Simon to take the extra chair that’s right next to it. Baz’s desk is large enough that they both can sit comfortably at it. Before Simon sits down, he anxiously shoves his hands into his pockets. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to talk about it?” he asks, unable to stop himself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry?” Baz turns back to look at him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon looks away from him and shakes his head. “Um, about what I texted you yesterday.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right.” Baz pats the extra seat. “We should probably work on the project.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon sits down, not looking at Baz. That was as good as a rejection, so he decides to can it. He crosses his legs under the chair and grabs his notebook from his bag. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What I mean is,” Baz says, turning in his chair so his knees knock against Simon’s. “We should work on the project</span>
  <em>
    <span> first</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon’s eyes widen. “What?” he asks before he can stop himself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz’s hand presses against Simon’s knee. “Shakespeare first. Then we’ll see.” He practically whispers that last part. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon’s thought process revolves around </span>
  <em>
    <span>Baz knee Baz touching knee my knee he’s touching it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Oh,” he finally says. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz lets go of his leg and turns back to the desk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Baz tortures Simon the entire time they’re discussing Henry IV, running his fingers over the edge of Simon’s thigh and constantly knocking his foot against his. He reaches up every so often to brush a curl out of Simon’s face or to run his thumb just along Simon’s jaw. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon’s jittery and on edge. They’re not really even discussing Henry IV - Baz is discussing and Simon is listening and muttering, “Yeah, makes sense,” whenever he has the mental capacity for it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon can’t even return Baz’s teasing touches - he’s too worried Baz is just taking the piss and isn’t really interested in him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>“We can finish another time,” Baz finally says, shutting his </span><em><span>huge </span></em><span>copy of The</span> <span>Complete Works of Shakespeare (because of course).</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They’d gotten a decent amount of work done, but with all of the bumping and teasing Baz had been doing, Simon wasn’t as helpful as he could have been. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz isn’t currently touching Simon, both of his hands working on putting his things away, but when Baz’s ankle hits into his, Simon jolts. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Another time.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once he’s finished neatly closing and stacking up the few Shakespeare-related books that he’d pulled out, Baz turns a bit towards Simon, still pressing their feet together. “So,” he says simply, like Simon can easily provide a place to go from here. Baz’s cold foot lifts slightly so it’s pressing against Simon’s bare ankle. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon’s all shivers and mumbly words. “Uh, yeah-” he says. “If we’re done, I can, uh, c-come another time.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz raises an eyebrow, which brings his mouth up into a natural smirk. It’s a sight that Simon is incredibly familiar with, but not in this intimate of a setting - and certainly not with this context. “I’d love for you to come,” Baz says. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon’s never blushed so intensely in his life, his ears burning. “Yeah,” Simon says, wrapping his hands along the bottom of his chair to scoot it back. He stands up shakily. He thinks that if maybe he leaves now, Baz won’t have to feel obligated to do anything and Simon won’t make a complete and utter fool of himself. “I’ll, er, see you in class.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He starts to walk away, barely making it to the door before Baz is right up behind him (how the hell does he get there that fast?), touching just below his elbow, and whipping him round. Simon isn’t pressed against the door, but he may as well be. His back is centimeters away from it. (All Simon wants is for Baz to snog him against the door). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz is softer now and when he reaches up to touch Simon’s cheek, there’s no maliciously teasing intent behind it. “You can leave if you want to,” he whispers. “But I’d like it if you stayed.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s aware of how little he really knows Baz, but this is a side of him that Simon’s never had access to. He’s used to taunts and playful insults thrown his way in class, accompanied by elbow nudges and Baz flicking his hair out of his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon scrunches up his face like it’s hard for him to say (it kind of is). “Right,” he mutters. “I’m really sorry about that text.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz rolls his eyes, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>there’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>the Baz that Simon recognizes. Baz crowds Simon just a bit closer so his back hits into the door. “I’m not,” he says. “I always figured my advances were one-sided, so the text was a nice surprise.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Advances?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz looks at Simon like he’s trying to figure out if he’s taking the piss or not. “Yes,” Baz says. “I’ve fancied you for months, Snow.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon gapes. His hands, which were previously in fists against the door, soften along his sides. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You really didn’t know?” Baz snorts. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Simon says, abashed. He looks away from Baz, feeling incredibly moronic. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, you’re thick,” Baz says (and there’s a fondness in his voice that Simon can’t analyze). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon blushes but flicks his eyes back up to Baz’s. Baz responds with another fucking eyebrow raise and leans in just a bit closer, dropping a hand down to splay along Simon’s hip. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s close enough that Simon can identify every single part of Baz’s eye - the iris, the pupil, the curve of his cornea, everything. Why Simon is fixating on the diagrammable shape of Baz’s eye, he’s not sure. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz presses his nose against Simon’s jaw so he’s forced to tilt his head to the side a bit. He whispers into his ear, “You really talked a big game of fucking me over that text.” He pauses and nips at Simon’s earlobe. “But can you deliver?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That spurs Simon into making a snap decision. (To be fair, most of Simon’s decisions are snap decisions, full stop. He rarely thinks anything through before acting on it). He shoots a hand up to grip onto the back of Baz’s neck and tug him into his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>God. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe Baz is a god. That’s not really what Simon means, but when Baz’s mouth opens with a soft gasp and Simon’s tongue presses into his, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>biblical</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon runs his hands over Baz’s waist and up under his shirt to spread across his back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Take me to bed,” Baz says against his mouth, already tugging him away from the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He does. Fuck, does he. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz is cool and whimpery against Simon’s hands. He leans against him with a reckless abandon that Simon relates to </span>
  <em>
    <span>all too much</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Simon presses into Baz slowly and with the caring of someone who wants to be more than just a one-night stand. (He’ll tell Baz that later maybe). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz’s eyes roll back when he’s on the precipice of that pleasure and Simon’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>that it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Simon pulls away from Baz and bonelessly slides onto the bed next to him, he shuts his eyes tightly and reruns through everything that just happened. He’s going to memorize it, tattoo it inside his eyelids. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll text you?” Simon finally says, opening his eyes and finding Baz staring at him, his eyes warm and blissful. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz shakes his head. “Stay here,” he breathes, wrapping an arm around Simon’s waist and pulling him close. “You’re a shit texter.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bonus smut chapter</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello bonus sex :) thanks for giving me the motivation to write this! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Take me to bed,” Baz says against his mouth, already tugging him away from the door. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He does. Fuck, does he. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon grips tightly at Baz’s hips and opens his eyes just enough so he can see where the bed is and push Baz towards it. Baz takes the opportunity to tilt his head to the side and suck at Simon’s neck, ferociously biting and licking at the skin for the short amount of time it takes for the backs of his legs to hit the mattress. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon’s on the verge of passing out from pleasure. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pushes Baz onto the bed and presses his hands against his shoulders to hold him in place while he straddles the taller man’s hips. Simon kisses him harshly and softly runs his fingers along the smooth skin of his exposed neck. He slides them down and starts to carefully undo the buttons of Baz’s shirt, pulling back to make sure it’s alright. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz helps him undo his shirt and tug it off his shoulders. Baz tries to kiss him again, but Simon won’t let him on the account that he can’t stop staring at Baz’s chest. Simon runs his hands down Baz’s chest, mapping and shaping out the planes and curves of his torso, curling around the sides of his ribs and reaching around to brush his spine. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shivering, Baz reaches up to tug at the collar of Simon’s shirt. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so cold,” Simon whispers, unable to stop himself. He pinches quickly at one of Baz’s nipples, </span>
  <em>
    <span>just to see</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Baz whimpers and presses into him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon grins. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Flattening his hands against Baz’s stomach, Simon leans his head down to suck softly at his nipple, flicking his tongue over it. Baz, leaning his head back, mumbles, “Tease.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“From the mouth of hypocrites,” Simon says back. He’d spent the last </span>
  <em>
    <span>hour </span>
  </em>
  <span>being teased by Baz, so he feels this is only appropriate. He kisses the center of Baz’s chest before shoving at his shoulders and pressing him down onto the bed flat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon kisses Baz again, still not used to the feeling of Baz’s mouth used for good instead of evil. (</span>
  <em>
    <span>Evil</span>
  </em>
  <span> being mumbled and slightly flirty insults thrown in Simon’s direction). (</span>
  <em>
    <span>Good </span>
  </em>
  <span>being Baz sucking on Simon’s tongue and humming so much that it vibrates through his head). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon’s trailing his mouth down Baz’s neck, biting at his skin and forcing whines out of him when he catches him off-guard. Before Simon can successfully make it to Baz’s chest again, Baz reaches over to pull at the hem of Simon’s shirt, wordlessly begging him to take it off. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon sits up and yanks his shirt over his head, dropping it next to Baz on the bed, shutting his eyes instinctively when Baz touches his stomach, rubbing gently over his skin and spreading his cool hands across Simon’s chest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz reaches down and starts to undo Simon’s jeans. Simon lets him but the moment that they’re unzipped, he’s pushing his hands into his hair, lifting Baz’s head off the bed slightly so he can kiss him again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Instinctively, Simon grinds against Baz just barely. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Baz breathes, bucking his hips up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Never has a swear sounded so lovely in someone’s mouth and Simon </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>to kiss him, swallowing the sound. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon scoots back along Baz’s thighs, still kissing him, so he can undo Baz’s jeans and tug them halfway down his hips. Simon’s so busy kissing him that he won’t even allow Baz to lift his hips up to get his jeans off. He instead just grinds down onto him slowly, trying to tease more sounds out of him. He succeeds. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz acts tough, but the whimpers and whines that Simon’s pulling from his throat negate that within seconds. Baz’s hands have buried themselves into Simon’s hair, tugging on and wrapping around his curls (drawing just as embarrassing of noises out of him in return). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon swings his leg off of Baz so that he’s kneeling right next to him, attaching his mouth to Baz’s neck, sucking gently and teasing his tongue over his cool skin. Simon uses his left hand to finish pushing off Baz’s too-tight jeans, Baz assisting him in the process. Once there, Simon tugs his head away from Baz’s neck to run his eyes hungrily over Baz’s pale thighs. (Thighs By Football). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why’d you text me that?” Baz asks, mostly under his breath. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Simon breathes. He turns his head and stops rubbing his fingers against Baz’s waistband. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The text,” Baz says, pressing up until Simon returns to running his hands along his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon blushes. He’s already pretty red from their </span>
  <em>
    <span>activities </span>
  </em>
  <span>so it’s just a darker tinge on his ears that tips Baz off. “Oh,” he breathes, tucking his fingers into the waistband of Baz’s pants, slowly tugging them down his legs. He doesn’t look down, keeping eye contact with Baz. “Meant to send it to my friend.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz whimpers as Simon’s hand brushes just by the base of his cock. “You talked to your friend about me? About wanting to-” he cuts off when Simon pinches at his hip. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon wraps his hand around Baz’s cock and even with the bit of moisture he has access to, it’s dry friction. Baz responds well so Simon continues. “It’s all I talk about,” he says, suddenly not that embarrassed about it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s hot,” Baz says. Simon’s not sure whether he’s referring to his hand around his cock or that all he talks about is how much he wants to fuck Baz. Maybe both. (He hopes it’s both).</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon effectively shuts him up by running his thumb over the head of his dick and continues to stroke him languidly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz’s eyes shut and he drops his head down against the mattress, digging his nails into Simon’s scalp. His mouth is open and he’s panting breathlessly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This is great and all,” Baz whispers, bucking his hips up. “But please get on with it.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon likes the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>please </span>
  </em>
  <span>in Baz’s mouth. (He vows to make Baz say it again, but louder. Hopefully while Simon’s inside him). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Letting go of Baz’s cock, Simon stands up off the bed completely. Baz watches with blown out eyes as Simon finishes undoing his jeans, pulling them off as well as his pants. He’s careful not to trip over them once they’re around his ankles. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon allows himself to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>look </span>
  </em>
  <span>at Baz for a minute, appreciating the darker grey in his eyes and the twitching of his cock and his toned calves and everything in between. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz sits up and grabs Simon by the hips, brushing his mouth against Simon’s stomach, letting his tongue and lips run over the sensitive skin there. Simon presses his hips forward and indulges himself in the feeling. Baz’s mouth is cool and so are his hands, but when Simon slides a hand along his jaw and cheek, Baz’s face is warm against his fingers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come,” Baz says, tapping Simon’s hip before scooting back on the bed and leaving space for Simon to get between his legs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As Simon is settling himself between his thighs, Baz reaches over and grabs a small bottle of lube from the drawer in the table next to his bed. He hands it to Simon, who immediately gets to work, slicking up three of his fingers with the lube and tossing the bottle to the side. He gives Baz one questioning look before receiving the all-clear-eyebrow-raise and proceeding to press one finger into him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz throws his head back and whines, immediately fucking himself down on Simon’s fingers. He doesn’t get that for long because Simon withdraws, gripping onto Baz’s hips. “Here,” Simon says, twisting Baz in his grip so he’s on all fours, arse perfectly in Simon’s line of sight. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon presses his finger back into Baz, quickly adding a second. He’s self-indulgent and presses his mouth against Baz’s arse cheek, kissing and teasingly sucking at the skin. Baz’s hips jut back into him and he whines loudly, whispering, “Snow,” under his breath. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Easing a third finger into Baz, Simon stretches him open and continues to run his mouth along Baz’s cold skin. He curls his fingers down and Baz chokes on a moan, fucking back onto him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon,” Baz says. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon ignores him, wrapping his free hand just around the front of Baz’s body so he can splay his hand along his hip. Simon presses his fingers into him harder, brutally stretching him open. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Snow,” Baz says, his voice high and tight. Simon’s holding him just tight enough that he can’t twist around. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon continues to draw soft sounds from Baz with his fingers, dragging his other hand further around so he can wrap it around Baz’s cock. Simon distracts him long enough to lean up and press a string of kisses down Baz’s spine. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus Christ</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Simon,” Baz says loudly, wiggling in Simon’s grip. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon grins, sucking a mark into the skin just next to Baz’s spine. He likes Baz like this - under his hands and whimpering and saying Simon’s name all breathy and lovely. He finally gives in to Baz’s borderline-begging, slowly removing his fingers from Baz and presses a last kiss to the back of his shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz groans. “Finally,” he groans. “Hurry.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t see any reason to rush,” Simon says softly, mostly teasing. (He </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>enjoying this too much, though). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon slicks up his cock and presses himself carefully against Baz, gripping both of his hips to hold him in place. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready?” Simon asks. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon can practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear </span>
  </em>
  <span>him rolling his eyes. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Baz says. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Carefully and slowly, Simon presses his cock into Baz, groaning and throwing his head back as he does so. He’s vaguely aware of his nails digging into Baz’s hips. Simon’s heart is thumping out of his chest as he holds Baz there, trying to adjust to the feeling of being </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside </span>
  </em>
  <span>him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz moans loudly and presses back onto Simon quickly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon adjusts his grip on Baz’s hips so he’s holding one of them and reaches the other up to tug at the ends of Baz’s hair, mostly teasingly. Baz whimpers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon sets an excruciating pace, jutting his hips forward into Baz’s over and over, digging his fingers into Baz’s hair and hip respectively. Baz’s whines and moans are loud and unabashed, and he tilts his hips against Simon harshly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon gives a final tug at Baz’s soft hair before dropping his hand down to gently wrap around Baz’s cock, giving him just a bit of pressure, but not enough. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Simon,” Baz breathes, trying to simultaneously press down into his hand and back onto his cock. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Simon hums, leaning down to bite at the back of Baz’s shoulder. “Need something?” he says, his shaky voice partly betraying him. Baz doesn’t seem to notice. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“For you to not be a prick for just one second,” Baz mutters, grinding his hips back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon hums again, stretching so he can bite the back of Baz’s neck, then run his tongue over the reddened skin. He starts to touch Baz’s cock in earnest, matching the pace of his hips the best he can. He shuts his eyes and presses his face against Baz’s back, fucking into him harder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Simon breathes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz grips onto the sheets tightly with one hand and slides the other one behind himself until Simon gets the hint and grabs onto his hand, twining their fingers together. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon wants to see his face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He lets go of Baz’s hand and suddenly pulls out of him, Baz groaning at the loss of contact. “What-?” Baz asks sharply. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon grabs onto both of Baz’s hips, flipping him over once again. He’s embarrassed when he says it, but he breathes, “I want to see your face,” as he spreads Baz’s thighs apart and slots in between them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz smirks and wraps his legs around Simon’s waist. “And</span>
  <em>
    <span> I</span>
  </em>
  <span> want you to put your dick back in me.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon purposefully presses his hips backward and away from where Baz wants. (Partly because he’s afraid he’ll come on the spot). “That can maybe be arranged,” Simon whispers, leaning down to press a kiss against Baz’s collarbone. “If you ask nicely.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bullshit,” Baz teases. “You don’t like it when I’m nice.” He’s still trying to press against Simon. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon rolls his eyes and bites softly at Baz’s neck. “I wouldn’t know,” he says. “You’re never nice to me.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucking bullshit,” Baz says again, moving both hands to wrap around Simon’s hips, tugging him against him finally. “As much as I like this banter, Simon,” Baz mutters as he grinds back against Simon’s cock. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please </span>
  </em>
  <span>fuck me.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon still really likes it when Baz says please. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He finally complies, adjusting so he can press himself into Baz again, letting out a soft sigh as he pushes his hips flush against Baz. Baz whines and digs his nails harshly into Simon’s hips. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As Simon works back up to the previous pace, he ducks his head down further to suck softly at one of Baz’s nipples, smiling against his skin. Baz lets go of one of Simon’s hips and wraps a hand around himself, quickly trying to pull himself to the edge. Simon watches, indulgently, for just a moment before pushing Baz’s hand away and pressing his wrist into the mattress. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Simon</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Baz breathes, eyes shutting in both frustration and pleasure. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon moves his hand so he can twine their fingers together again, still holding his hand down. Simon hitches his hips into Baz harder and kisses his neck gently, sucking and licking when he’s not just panting against him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz whines again, breath coming out in short bursts as he tilts his head to the side so Simon has more access. “I swear to-” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Simon says. He lets go of Baz’s hand and brushes over the base of Baz’s cock. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz finally almost-yells, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon jerks Baz off harshly and juts his hips forward. He’s so close, but he’s going to make Baz come first if it’s the last thing he does. He wants to see Baz’s face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh God,” Baz mutters, his words breathy and whimpery. “Please, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Simon- I’m right there.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right there with you,” Simon responds, slowing the motion of his hips just enough that he can focus on the movement of his hand over Baz’s cock, running his thumb over the head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Baz whimpers Simon’s name when he comes, voice so quiet that if Simon’s face wasn’t pressed up against his, he wouldn’t hear it. His eyes roll back and Simon watches in awe. Simon tugs on Baz’s cock to pull him through his orgasm and brings the pace of his hips back up so he can get there as well. It doesn’t take long for Simon to be biting down on Baz’s shoulder as he comes, hips stuttering into him and air catching in his lungs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Simon slowly pulls out of Baz and drops himself onto the bed next to him, shutting his eyes. He’s going to remember every second of this if it kills him. He feels warm and boneless but when Baz presses his side against Simon’s hip, he could be ready to go again within minutes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll text you?” Simon finally says, opening his eyes and finding Baz staring at him, his eyes warm and blissful. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Baz shakes his head. “Stay here,” he breathes, wrapping an arm around Simon’s waist and pulling him close. “You’re a shit texter.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
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